Fractal Rain

Woke to rain.
In San Diego, rain is rare enough to feel slightly magical. Like a full moon. Or a meteor shower.
Although this year has been a rainy one. Last week, my landlord asked how the river in the backyard has been flowing. I realized that I had not been down there to check it out, yet.
So this morning, I made myself a thermos of coffee, put on my rain slicker, and headed out into the rain.
The river was FLOWING and beautiful.
The recent rains had made the canyon explode in green. Big, lush nasturtium leaves blanketed the river bank.
I set a plastic chair by the creek, poured myself a cup of pre-sweetened coffee, and set my ipod to â€œCat Stevens.â€
My mind bounced from gorgeous detail to gorgeous detail.
Vibrant green leaf.
Budding lemon blossom.
Dark gnarled root.
Swirling current heading, always, towards the sea.
I watched the tiny – mist-like raindrops fall and collect on the Nasturtium leaves.
Each drop too small to see, but gradually collecting into reflective crystal globes. The droplets forming and then dropping with random, gorgeous, perfection.
The drops would fall from the leaf to the ground – where it would presumably provide water to the very plant that just collected it. Or maybe it would evaporate, and fall again, elsewhere. Some way or another rejoining the stream and the eternal seaward cycle.
I sat there with a stream of water rushing by right to left.
Countless tiny droplets fell from above.
Thousands of roots around me pulled water from the damp soil up their stems.
I sat motionless as natureâ€™s cycles swirled all around me.
I had the feeling of being microscopic. Everything around me – every molecule and atom – moving in perfect cycles. Connected in a massive cosmic dance. Interconnected and perfectly balanced.
Once again, I return to Awe.
Thank you, Universeâ€¦ for the miracles in every moment.